What have we become?
Sometimes just talking,
For minutes at a time,
If that,

And when we do exchange pleasantries,
I almost always have to leave too suddenly,
Leaving proper goodbyes in the dust,
And me to feel guilty until the next time we speak,
And the cycle repeats,

But set aside the sudden moments,
And broken goodbyes,
There is hope,

Hope that I may one day,
Get to lay in your arms,
With nothing to fear,
Just getting to feel your warmth,
And maybe one day,
It will all be perfect,
And we'll have our happy ending,

But until then,
Short, choppy conversations,
And improper goodbyes,
Are the price we have to pay,
For love.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the. mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

1, 2 I'm coming for you
3, 4 better lock the door
5, 6 better throw the bricks
7, 8 try get out the gate
9, 10 start running again

You are not my children,
tender as you are.
You are not my lover,
though you cause my heart to yearn.
You are not my sun,
or my moon,
or my star.

I set you on this rock;
you will not make me burn.

You are simply sticks,
arranged upon the pyre.
You are clever tricks,
though you flaunt my clear desire.
You are not the match,
or the wick,
or the fire.

I set you on this rock;
To see what might transpire.

You will never be a pheasant's egg to be coddled.
You are only this: a calf led to the slaughter.

to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.

to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.

to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.

And I had to walk away
I was just hoping at least he noticed I didn't run